Matchmaking
by omgringo
Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Paul's at it again. Oh dear... Just a funny, little story; no slash this time, just some bromance.


_Tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc._

The clock on the wall was the only thing to be heard in the studio. The three men sat, drowning in the growing silence that swamped the room they gathered in.

_Tic-toc, tic-toc._

Then, the flick of a lighter crackled the quiet, the burning of the cigarette, and the gentle breath in from the man sucking on the end of the tobacco cylinder faded away just as quickly as it had arrived. The three men sighed in unison.

_Tic-toc._

"Where the bloody hell is Paul?" One of them yelled. He had a sharp, beaked nose and two narrow eyes. When he stood, his long legs began to pace him back and fourth across the room. "He's an hour late!"

Another man, the one smoking his cigarette calmly, mulled quietly. "Maybe he overslept."

"Ringo," the first man growled in frustration, "It's 2 o'clock. I know Paul's a lazy git but he's not this lazy."

The third man took a bite of a small sandwich in his fingers. "Perhaps he got into an accident..."

"Don't say that, George!" Ringo scolded. He took another drag of the smoke and crossed one short leg over the other as he rested his elbows on his knees.

George rolled his eyes and the first man continued to pace, muttering under his breath. He sighed. "Look John," George addressed, taking in another mouthful of bread, "Worrying is not gonna make 'im come any quicker. Just take it easy."

John stopped pacing and stared the man down for a moment. He stomped over to him and snatched the sandwich out of his fingers, hurling it across the room.

"Hey!" George cried in shock, voice high and dejected, "Me sarnie. You _threw_ me sarnie!"

"Oh, you and your sandwiches, George; what does it matter? I'd buy you a _hundred_ bleedin' sandwiches if Paul would just turn up right-"

The double doors to the studio swung open, and in waltzed a dark-haired man carrying a leather bag in his hands. He wore a smirk and a bright red waistcoat. The room was silent when he came to a stop in the centre and grinned.

John gulped. "_Now_..."

"Greetings, brothers!" The man smiled eagerly. He twirled around the room- curiously reminding John of some sort of tipsy ballerina- and halted when he met George sitting on a chair in horrified silence. He ruffled the younger man's dark hair and sighed dreamily in animated fashion.

"Paul?" Squeaked John. The three men were mortified.

George mumbled, "You owe me one hundred sarnies, Lennon."

"Yes, darling Johnny! Paul McCartney has arrived." He gave a dramatic bow and grinned even wider. Ringo thought that, if his smile got any bigger, his face would crack in two like a china plate.

George's eyes widened. "Are you drunk?"

Paul only giggled like a bashful schoolgirl and sighed again. John winced. "Only drunk on l_ove,_ yes, Georgie." He opened up the leather bag and shoved his hand inside, pulling out a bundle of small paper hearts and chucking them into the air as if he were throwing confetti. John groaned and shook it out of his mop-top with a tense hand.

"Why are you late?" He grumbled. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ringo mesmerised by the falling bits of coloured paper.

Paul suddenly grew quiet. His lips were tight and his eyes were low. "I'm... uh," he coughed while he said it, "quitting the band."

All three men yelped. "_What_!?"

"Music's good and all but I've found something I'm even better at." The smile was back again, and John relaxed a little. Paul wasn't ditching the band; that was ridiculous. Right?

"And what's that, Paul?" George asked in scepticism.

"Match-making!"

The three Beatles glanced at each other in confusion. "What?"

Ringo's small voice called out. "You make matches?"

"No, no, silly; I set people up. You know, when someone pays a match-maker to set them up with another special someone else. It's a humble business." Paul explained.

"Sounds like a bloody waste of money to me..." John mumbled sarcastically. Paul scrunched up his nose.

"I'll have you know, _Lennon_, that match-making is one of the most fastly-growing money making ventures in the UK."

"Since when were you a businessman?" The drummer inquired.

"Since this morning!"

"Right," George quipped, rolling his eyes, "who've you matched up so far?"

Paul shifted in his scarlet waistcoat, shrinking a little. "Um, John and Cynthia..."

John scoffed. "Nice one, Paul, but I think you're a little late on the mark there."

"Well, using my match-making expertise, I also paired George up with... with..." he rooted around in his leather bag for a moment before pulling it out. "This sandwich!"

George squealed, diving for the snack in Paul's fingers. He snatched it from the bassist's hands and held it against his chest like a long lost lover. "Oh, _thank you_, Paul, thank you!"

Paul looked smug and John rolled his eyes, grumbling again when he heard Ringo ask.

"Who've you matched me up with Paul?" His blue eyes sparkled but deflated when Paul reached inside his bag and pulled out nothing. The bassist shrugged a little.

"Sorry, Ringo, I haven't got anything for you..."

Ringo sighed and moped around the room, passing George hugging his sandwich, and slumped over onto a sofa. He smoked silently.

John crossed his arms. "This is stupid. You're not quitting the band; I _forbid_ it!" He nodded once as a sign of confirmation. He had two burning brown eyes burrowing into the pair of fierce hazel.

"Why can't you let me follow my dream, John!" Paul whined, squaring up to the rhythm guitarist.

"Because it's a bloody ridiculous dream, Paul, that's why!" John snapped in reply.

The two men growled at each other. George muttered something comforting to his sandwich and moved further away to protect himself from the impending war that was about to occur between Lennon and McCartney. Ringo wedged out one of his drum sticks from the crack of the cushions in the sofa he sat on and clutched it tightly.

"You're a bassist, that's all you are,"

"Well... you're a... a-" he stuttered but something clicked in his mind and a smug settled on his face. The room fell silent. "You're a bad song writer."

Ringo and George gasped at Paul's silver-tongued insult. John's dark orbs nearly popped out of his head in shock.

"You _what_, Macca!?" He huffed.

"You heard me, Lennon." Paul said defiantly, "you're a bad song writer!"

John edged closer to the younger man in anger. "Why you- shirtlifter!"

Paul gaped. "You posh twat!"

"Lefty!"

"Right-y!"

"Minger!"

"**_Four-eyes!_**"

"_**Girl!**_"

Ringo stood from the couch and shouted, drowning out the back-and-fourth insult match between the bassist and the rhythm guitarist. "_Shut up_!" His usually sombre eyes were narrow with anger. The two men fell silent at his outburst. "Can you _hear_ yourselves? You're both bein' ridiculous." He walked closer to John and Paul, cigarette in one hand and drum stick in the other. "It's only bloody Valentine's Day, Paul, nothing worth quitting the band over; if you really like this match-making thing, you can do it in your spare time. And John," he turned to the auburn-haired man reasonably, "Don't disregard someone's dreams like that. Dreams are what got us here in the first place."

Paul and John both nodded, resembling children caught stealing biscuits.

"I'm sorry," the bassist apologised, "you're a brilliant song writer."

John blushed bashfully, scuffing his shoe on the floor. "I'm sorry too; you're much more than a bassist." He smiled a little. "You're me mate..."

Paul shrugged modestly and the two men pulled each other into a brief hug. Then, John coughed and dusted himself off. He looked rather flustered. "Right then! Let's get some recordin' done, shall we?"

Ringo rolled his eyes, pulling an arm around George, who was still happily munching on his sandwich.

**(Happy Valentine's Day! And, don't panic that Ringo didn't get a match; he's dating me.**

**Secondly, I know you must all be furious with how long I disappeared for. I apologise. It's been very hectic recently: school, exams, mountains of homework, weariness, stress, and just about everything else horrible like that. I'm still writing the next chapter of Don't Ever Change and I'm making sure it's a long one for you as way of an apology. I'm also sorry to all the stories I've missed on here and for not leaving reviews. I really haven't had time to read but I've broke up for a week from school so I promise to start socialising again! Hopefully the next chapter of Don't Ever Change will be up soon.**

**So yeah. This was just a fun, little idea I got for a silly Valentine's Day fic. Please tell me what you think! Thank you all so much for reading and have a wonderful day!**

**Lots of love,**

**omgringo.)**


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